


something left unsaid, nothing left uneaten

by pizza_my_heart



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is soft in more ways than one, Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, M/M, Their relationship is like semi-nonsexual in this, Weight Gain, Weirdly Fluffy, kind of sort of i intentionally left it pretty ambiguous, theyre still kinky tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 02:41:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20418545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pizza_my_heart/pseuds/pizza_my_heart
Summary: it's fluffy and pure but it's a kink fic yo so prolly read the tags uNLESS YOU LIKE TO LIVE ON THE EDGE





	something left unsaid, nothing left uneaten

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this bc i realized in the middle of writing a kink smut fic that if i took out the normative sex stuff, it was somehow closer to canon than a fic w normative sex stuff and no wg/belly/food kink stuff and like that NEVER happens EVER so like, i couldnt NOT explore that. Like when else am i ever going to find a pairing where that fits?????????
> 
> So i wrote this and it turned out rly short and also rly fluffy (also that smut fic is still comin dont worry lol)
> 
> Idk have fun readin about these good pure beans (ok one pure bean and one impure bean) bein cute and pure at each other and also theres kink stuff BYE

"Goodness me, Crowley, everything here looks absolutely scrumptious!" chirped Aziraphale. They were doing brunch at a cozy little diner. He squealed. "Crowley, look, they've got croque madames!"

Their waitress returned. "Are you gentlemen ready to order?" she asked, pen poised above her notepad.

Aziraphale looked over at Crowley lounging in the booth across the table, then said, "Yes, I think so. Mm... I'll think I'll have the pancakes. And the belgian waffle. And the breakfast scramble. And…" and then he saw the look on the waitress's face. "Er, that'll be it, actually."

"Did you want potatoes with that, sir?"

"Er, yes, that would be lovely, thank you."

"With all of the meals or just one?"

Aziraphale flushed. "Just one."

"And for you, sir?" She turned to Crowley.

"Coffee. Black." His usual order. "And… a croque madame." He was blessed if his angel wasn't going to get everything that he wanted to eat.

"Did you want potatoes with that, sir?"

Crowley glanced at Aziraphale. "Yes."

This wasn't uncommon for them--Crowley ordering food they both knew Aziraphale would be the one to eat.

In fact, it happened rather a lot.

Like many things in their relationship, it went unspoken. Like how fond they were of one another. Sure, they squabbled, but when it came right down to it, they loved each other, and they both knew it.

Crowley wanted to make his angel happy, and eating made Aziraphale happy.

So Crowley made sure that Aziraphale ate.

The result of this was, of course, that Aziraphale had ended up getting a bit pudgy over the years (well, perhaps rather more than just pudgy).

But Crowley liked how soft Aziraphale was.

Softness was the plurality of food, and therefore, as far as Crowley was concerned, the plurality of Aziraphale's happiness.

And Aziraphale _ did _enjoy eating. He loved the satisfying, warm weight of a stomach full of good food. Taste was one of his favorite things about having a body.

Touch was one of his other favorite things. Crowley knew this.

Their relationship wasn't sexual, per se. Certainly not by most definitions.

But it was _ physical_.

"Ohh, Crowley, that's _ lovely… _" Crowley's long, thin fingers worked Aziraphale's glutted stomach. He and Aziraphale were curled up together on Aziraphale's sofa after a night out, the way they often were. "I do suppose I ate rather too much tonight…"

"No such thing, angel. You eat as much as you like, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially not that shitbag, Gabriel."

"I know how you feel about Gabriel, Crowley."

"It doesn't even make sense! Telling you to 'lose the gut'. We're immortal, for Satan's sake. Bloody optics, that's all they care about."

"I'm beginning to regret telling you about that."

"I just-- I forgot how _ nasty _ heaven was. _ Is._"

Aziraphale sighed, melting further into Crowley's touch. "But truly? No such thing as too much?"

"I mean, _ obviously _ I don't think you should eat until you _ discorporate. _ But as long as you're enjoying yourself, why should you stop?"

"What if it gives me stomach-ache?"

"Well, angel," Crowley grinned. "That's why you have me."

**Author's Note:**

> Re: that thing crowley says about them being immortal: you cant actually tell how healthy someone is just based on their weight (tho lots of ppl like to veil/defend their fatshaming with the idea that you can), but in zira's case the question of whether he has a healthy lifestyle is entirely moot bc hes frickin IMMORTAL. Like gabriel literally cant even PRETEND he told him to lose the gut bc he cares about zira's health or some shit. Which is Crowley's point
> 
> Anyway yes just wanted to articulate that a little better (crowley doesnt do a great job in the fic bc hes angerey)
> 
> Btw this fic slightly inspired by that part in the book where zira helps himself to crowleys piece of fairy cake bc i was like "what if that... but on PURPOSE?????"
> 
> ALSO literally the only reason they have brunch at the start is bc while i was writing this i suddenly realized i had forgotten every single food except breakfast foods and ham and cheese toasties (i changed it to a croque madame later lol) so i was like FUCK IT THEYRE HAVING BRUNCH


End file.
